Chapter Text
“Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep."
-Mary Elizabeth Frye
Inquisitor Lavellan stepped out of the rift in The Fade, Warden Alistair close behind her. She slammed the rift shut, banishing Corypheus’s demon army.
As the people rejoiced, Varric stepped forward and asked where Hawke was. She’d been just behind them.
The Inquisitor looked in his eyes and struggled to find the words to explain.
And leagues away, Bethany slept.
She dreamt of Lothering, of the sunny little cottage the Hawkes had lived in when they finally decided to stop running for good.
She knew that the cottage was gone, the whole town along with it, and that this was just a trick of the Fade, but it was a welcome change from the dreary walls of the Circle, or the bland, samey look of every inn she had stayed at since the Circles dissolved and she went on the run. It was nice enough to see a place she called home that Bethany was content to just sit quietly and let it be, knowing that if any demons showed up to try to tempt her with it, she could easily take care of them.
She sat in one of her old favorite spots at the window, letting herself have a peaceful rest, until she heard the sounds of fighting from outside. Looking outside the window she saw her sister, fighting off a small hoard spiders.
Bethany sighed and shook her head before grabbing her staff and heading out to help.
The spiders were quickly dispersed with a few well-placed fireballs, leaving them as little more than smoking corpses and piles of ash.
“Well,” Bethany said, “Even in the Fade you attract nothing but trouble.
Hawke turned to her sister and pulled her into a tight hug.
“Maker’s breath, Bethany,” she said, “It’s good to see a familiar face. Or, any face that isn’t a demon. You’re not a demon, are you? Because if you are I will be so mad-”
“I’m not a demon, Isla,” Bethany said, hoping that using her sister’s oft forgotten first name would help convince her, “What are you doing here? You’re no mage, but you’re still so…present and aware-”
“Varric hasn’t told you yet?” Hawke asked, “I assumed he’d send out letters almost as soon as it happened. I suppose a messenger should be coming to Highever any day now. How is Highever, by the way? Everyone treating you alright?”
“It’s-it’s fine, Isla. When you said you’d ‘call in some favors’ to get me a safe place to stay, I really didn’t expect the favor to be from the Hero of Ferelden’s lover. But what-?”
“I suppose you can tell the Teyrn that Alistair’s alright. The two of them have grown rather close, if the way Alistair talks is anything to go by. Which it usually isn’t, but still-”
"Isla!”
“Sorry!” Hawke said, grinning sheepishly, “I just haven’t gotten to talk to anyone except demons and monsters for a while, and they’re not renowned for their conversation. I got a little carried away. I was going to tell you all about my exciting adventures in the Fade, right?”
Bethany nodded.
“Well, I’ll try to keep it as short as I can. I’m sure Varric would be able to fill in the details if you need them. I went to Skyhold because Varric asked me to help the Inquisition stop a demon army that this guy Corypheus was getting the Grey Wardens to summon. So we went to Adamant and some shit happened and we fought a bunch of demons and then we were falling off a bridge and the Inquisitor opened a rift in the Fade and we fell into that instead of to the ground below. So I’m… physically here. I’m not dreaming or under a spell. This is just where I am now, I guess.”
"What? But that… that doesn’t even make sense! Is that even possible?”
“Look, I never claimed to have Varric’s talent for telling stories. But that’s pretty much what happened. Except for the part where we were about to escape the Fade and I volunteered to stay behind to fight a giant monster so the others could escape.”
“You volunteered-”
“But after the Inquisitor closed the rift, the thing I was fighting disappeared. I think it got banished along with the fear demon we were fighting. Since then, I’ve just been wandering around, trying not to die.”
“That was always your plan, wasn’t it?”
Hawke smiled, hugging Bethany again, her armor weighing down heavily on Bethany’s slim form, helping in it’s own small way to reassure Bethany that this was her sister and that what she said was true.
Which meant she had some important letters to send.
A messenger came for her the next morning, bearing Varric’s letter and it’s news of Hawke’s death.
Bethany thanked Teyrn Cousland for his hospitality, and, after informing him that Alistair was fine, packed her few belongings and headed for Skyhold.
Varric deserved to be told in person.